The Other Sister (Sister Series, #1) (7 page)

Will glanced down when his phone vibrated with a new text message. Pulling it from his pocket, he was shocked to see the name flashing across the screen. How the hell did Jessie Bains get his number? But she had it, and was using it. Her message cryptic:
Meet me 2344 184
th
Street, Blue Heron, need to talk to u.

Will glanced up at the clock, and saw it was already midnight. He was with one of his best friends, Tony Lindstrom,
and three other guys from the base. They were playing a game of poker. There was no reason he should leave to meet Jessie. No reason at all. In fact, it was the worst thing he could do. What could Jessie possibly want with him?

He wouldn’t go. The minutes ticked by, and he kept eyeing the clock. Then he turned back to the poker game, and drummed his hand on the table. He made a career out of discipline, so why couldn’t he get Jessie’s face, her sad voice, or her naked body chained to the wall, out of his mind? He stood up suddenly, scraping his chair. His last image of Jessie was still in his mind and his primary motivation.

Her stupid voice did it. Every time he thought of Jessie, he remembered her tied to the wall, and the vulnerability in her voice, its desperation, when she begged him to not leave her. It echoed back to him now as if she were, once again, begging for his help.

“Where’re you going?”

He avoided meeting his friend’s gaze. “Forgot I gotta do something.”

“Who is she?”

“Not a she. Definitely not a she. Here, keep my winnings.” He wasn’t about to confess he was meeting a general’s daughter. That was a bad idea.

He went to the address, and saw the sign for the Blue Heron. It was a bar. She wasn’t even of age. Couldn’t she do anything without making it into something?

He entered. It was a small place, dark, smoky, with a kind of homey feel common to a neighborhood tavern. He saw her, leaning against a pool table as some beefy biker-type with tats, leather, and chains leaned over her in the guise of showing her how to hold the cue stick. Her ass was firmly planted in the guy’s crotch.

He should walk out now. Leave her. She sought out whatever trouble she was in. She was no more than a slut. What else could he call her? Every time he saw her, someone new was groping her. She was vulgar, crude, whorish, and undeniably offensive to him.

Except he remembered pulling her out of a bath of her own blood.
He tightened his mouth in disapproval of her, but more with himself. He couldn’t walk away, because there was more to her, than this.

He walked over to the pool table. She finally took her shot at the ball after making good and sure to get the biker hot. The ball sank into a corner pocket. Any idiot could see she knew exactly what she was doing with the pool cue.

“Are you done now
, Ms. Bains?”

Her eyes flashed onto him. She straightened up, almost ramming her head in the startled biker
’s chin. He was still bent closely over her. She had the grace to look slightly ashamed, and knew what he meant. She ducked out from under the giant biker’s embrace. He glanced across the table, and glared at Will. Will did not intend to get into a fight with the giant oaf if he had an issue about Jessie leaving him. She got him all riled up, and he’d be damned if he would pay for that.

“She’s my sister,” he said to the oaf, after Jessie eluded his grasp.

Jessie hurried past the man, then past Will. He followed after her, making sure the biker stayed by the pool table. The biker’s eyes were fastened on them, glaring at Will as if he was planning to tear him apart, limb by limb.

She sat down and he sat opposite her. They stared at each other across the sticky, stained table. The haze of smoke lingered over them, but the tension was much thicker than the smoke.

“How did you get my number?”

“I asked Lindsey. She didn’t approve of my gratitude towards you, so I told her I wanted to give you a better thank you.”

“Was that what you really wanted?”

She shook her head, and looked away. He waited, but she said nothing more. A waitress came, and she ordered herself a drink. She wasn’t carded. He ordered a beer, then waited for her explanation. Still, she said nothing, but stared at the table.

“What am I doing here
, Ms. Bains?”

She glanced at his face. “Why do you call me that? You sound like you’re just meeting me at a church social.”

“Because it’s your name.”

“No, my name is Jessie. I’m younger than you, you can’t address someone who is younger than you like she’s your mom’s friend.”

He let out a long breath to steady his temper. “What do you want?”

“Nothing. Everything. I don’t know. I just wanted to see you.”

“Is this one of your ploys? Another game? Gonna rub up against me too? No, thanks I’m not into public facilities, much less juveniles.”

She straightened her back in visible astonishment. He was surprised to see the look of hurt in her eyes before she dropped her gaze again.

“I can’t sleep.”

She fell silent and stared at her hands on the table. She twisted and pulled them before finally folding them together. He caught a glimpse of the strange color her palms were turning. She was pressing hard enough to nearly draw blood. The whisper, the fidgeting, and the terrified expression she had were completely at odds with the girl he saw at the pool table.

“So you come to a bar instead? How did you get in?”

She shrugged. “They don’t care here.”

He cleared his throat. “Look, I’m not sure what you want from me, but I’m not interested
, Ms. Bains.”

“I don’t want anything from you.”

“Then why am I here?”

“Why did you come?”

“Because you’re the general’s daughter.”

“Lucky me. So you came out of fear of what I’d do to your career, didn’t you?”

“Yes.”

“You’re honest.”

“Not usually a negative thing.”

She smiled at that. “I saw you talking to Lindsey.”

“So? Your sister is nice.”

“Yes, she is. I’m not.”

“I don’t know because I don’t know you. And frankly, I’m not interested in getting to know you. I ask you again, what do you want from me?”

Tears filled her eyes. She shook her head back and forth. “I don’t know. I
t’s just… things have been hard. Harder than I thought they’d be. And I can’t sleep.”

“Maybe you should see a doctor or something.”

“No. No one can know.”

“Except me, right? What do you want? Do you want to talk about it with me?”

“No. I never want to talk about it again. I never want to think about it again. I want—”

“What?”

“Nothing. I want to feel nothing. Remember nothing. Be nothing. And I can feel that with you. I can sit here and know that you know without having to tell you anything.”

“It comforts you that I know your secrets? I would expect it to make you feel worse. Makes you remember what you’re trying to forget.”

She gripped her glass, her fingers turning white, as her eyes flashed with heat. “I’ll never forget.”

“Then tell someone, talk to someone, get some help so you can heal inside.”

“I can’t. I won’t ever get better.”

She was again pushing fingers into her skin, and picking hard at her cuticles. Looking closer, he saw that all her fingernails and cuticles were shredded. Ugly. The rest of her was made up, her makeup thick, her hair teased, her top tight. But the fingers looked like they’d been through a cheese grater.

Their drinks came. She downed hers too fast. He took a sip of beer.

She played with
her empty glass. “How long were you there? You know... before you came into my cell?”

He studied her down turn
ed eyes, keeping his voice neutral as he answered. “Eight hours.”

He saw her brain computing that
, she was trying to remember where she was during the eight hours before she discovered him in her cell. She winced and raised her brown eyes to his. She nodded. “Right. So you have a good idea of things.”

“I do,” he said quietly. “But I wasn’t there for three days before that, so no, I probably don’t know.”

She nodded and they held eye contact. She knew exactly what he saw. It was no wonder she was such a mess. What puzzled him was why she flirted with more sexuality instead of shying away from it after what she had to endure.

“Why do you do things like that? The pool table? You turn these guys on, tease them. What happens when you don’t follow through? You’re too small to stop them if they decide your “no” is meaningless. Why do you do it? Why do you set yourself up for more trouble? Haven’t you had enough?”

“Who said I say no?”

He shook his head. “Al
l right, Ms. Bains. You win. I don’t need your shit. I’m sorry, really, for what happened to you. Sorrier still that it’s giving you such a hard time, but I’m not the one to help you. Go to your father, Lindsey, a doctor, someone, or anyone who can help you. But not me. Don’t come to me again.”

“No one can help me.”

He started to get up, but she stood quickly, putting her arm out without touching him. He paused, glancing at her. Waiting.

“I do it because that’s when I’m in control. When those men want me, or get turned on by me, I’m in control. I have the power.”

“And when you can’t handle them?”

“I don’t know,” she looked up at him. “You know the rumors.”

“Not rumors?” he asked finally.

“Not really, no.”

He cleared his throat. He reluctantly knew way more about the general’s daughter, Lindsey’s sister, than he ever wished to know about anyone. Unfortunately, she was right, he did know. She didn’t have to spell it out, and he knew what was wrong with her now. Everything. Simply because she’d had everything done to her.

“Find another way. Another way to feel better.”

“What did your friend do?”

“Friend? What friend?”

“The one whose leg got blown off. The one you told me about.”

He was surprised she remembered, or even listened to him. “
He went to the hospital. He got help. Both physical and emotional.”

“Soldiers are emotional now?”

“Soldiers see the worst stuff on earth sometimes, so yeah, they get emotional.

“Not you though. You don’t get emotional.”

He looked into her face. “Why do you say that?”

“You were like a faceless, nameless robot in there. You didn’t even blink at my condition, my circumstances, or my smell.”

“Yeah, I did. But what did you expect me to do? Wrinkle my nose in disgust? Start crying for you? The best and only thing I could do for you was to get you out of there.”

She seemed to
absorb this as tears filled her eyes. “You can hide things that well?”

“Yes.”

“It was bad, wasn’t it?” she whispered, her gaze riveted to the tabletop. “I’m not being dramatic, am I?”

She didn’t know? She doubted her own misery? He didn’t know what to do or say to such a mixed-up mess of a girl. “Yeah, it was that bad.”

“Do you hate me?”

“The general’s daughter? No. But I can be neutral with you.”

“I hate being the general’s daughter.”

“I’d never have guessed.”

She smiled. “Was that you being funny? I didn’t know you had it in you.”

He shifted. “I’m not devoid of personality. Choosing not to socialize with you makes me smart, not emotionally impaired.”

“Are you really? Neutral to me?”

“Yes.”

She shrugged. “I’ll take it. It’s better than hating me.”

“I don’t hate you.”

She stiffened. Then she slouched. “Thank you for coming tonight.”

“Don’t make it a habit.
I’m not a cop. I don’t work with victims for a reason: I don’t know how. My job is to do what the government tells me to do. In this case, the government was your father. I did what he asked of me, because even unofficially, it would have ended my career if I didn’t.”

“I get it. I was your mission.”

“Yes. That doesn’t mean what happened to you didn’t happen. It just means that I’m not the one to help you deal with it. You need to tell someone.”

“I can’t. I really can’t tell anyone. That’s an order. But I won’t bother you again.”

An order
? He paused hearing that. Then he shook his head.
Not his problem
. He got up. “Let me take you home.”

She refused by shaking her head. “I have my car. I’ll be fine.”

“Go home tonight. Now. Don’t do anything stupid.”

“Me? Never. Don’t worry about me. You were right
, it’s not your job.”

Jessie wanted to forget her kidnapping and tried everything she could think of. She went out. She stayed in. She stayed busy. She lay huddled in her bed. She tried to close her eyes and think of sunny fields, deserted beaches, a pristine snowy forest, but every time, she found herself right back in the dark, hellish cell that was slowly consuming her. She always left the lights on, no matter where she was, or what she was doing. She lived for the daylight. Each morning, a sliver of relief washed over her just because she made it through the night. But at the end of each day, of course, night returned. And again, she had to struggle with the demons in her head. They were batting a thousand. She began drinking at night to wash down sleeping pills. Sometimes too many. Sometimes with the hope that maybe, she wouldn’t wake up. Her only problem was, she couldn’t fully commit to it. She was ambivalent, and remained irresponsible with the pills and alcohol, but never chose to down the entire contents of both.

Her father left her alone in her misery. He ceased nagging her, belittling her, or causing her the usual anguish he was fond of directing her way. Being ignored by the general was tantamount to being coddled and loved by normal parents.

But nothing helped. The nights came faster and hit harder. There was nothing to prevent her mind from replaying the hellish hole Will pulled her out of. There was no running away from the memories that haunted her: the hooded captor, the men, the rapes.

She knew she couldn’t keep revisiting it, or she would go crazy. She left her room one night, driving around aimlessly just to avoid picking up the bottle of pills she regularly took. She finally parked outside her sister’s apartment. Maybe, just maybe she could tell Lindsey, and maybe, her sister would quit judging her, and hating her. Maybe then, someone would help her.

But instead, she found the apartment empty. No one answered. Jessie
leaned against the door. She needed Lindsey, somebody, anybody, to be there for her. She called her sister’s cell, but it went to voicemail. She tried again, thinking her sister would realize she was calling for more than the usual reasons. This time, Lindsey answered.

“What do you want?”

“Where are you? I need to talk to you.”

“What do you want?”

Jessie paused. There was a voice in the background. “Are you on a date?”

“I’m having dinner with someone. I’ll
—”

“Please
, Lindsey, I really need to talk to you.”

Lindsey sighed. “More of the usual? What was it last time you called me to disturb my date? Oh yes, your little sex tape going viral, or the time before that, when you were sitting in a jail cell? Well, not this time. Go bother someone else.”

“This isn’t like that. This is different. I swear to you, it’s different.”

“Like you’re ever different,” Lindsey mumbled. She covered the phone and spoke to her companion. The voice again. She knew that voice. It sounded familiar. It sounded like Will Hendricks.

“Where are you?”

“
Olinders. Look, I’ll talk to you tomorrow.” Lindsey hung up.

Jessie bit her lip. Of course! Didn’t Will say he knew Lindsey? Didn’t he say she was nice? Everything that Jessie wasn’t? Not that she could blame Will. He saw her with the creepy senator’s hand up her dress, and her performance at the bar, and well, Will also
spent those eight hours in Mexico. There wasn’t anything Will didn’t know about her anymore.

Jessie shut her eyes at the images and feelings of being transported to Mexico.
About eight hours
. That’s how long Will was there, witnessing the ugliest eight hours of her life.

Of course, she lived through it. She shuddered. But God, she couldn’t live with it anymore. Something would have to make her feel better, wouldn’t it? Maybe… having sex with someone else, someone besides them, maybe then, she’d feel better, and be able to get it out of her mind.

Turning her car, she headed towards a place that didn’t care she was the general’s daughter or Lindsey’s sister.